


Sui Tollech Gwanna Tach Omen

by jacksonwng



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MERMAID STILES, Mermaid Claudia, Minor Character Death, Stilinski Family Feels, based on a gifset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksonwng/pseuds/jacksonwng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mermaid AU.</p><p>Stiles was five when he first realised that not everybody grew a tail when they entered water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sui Tollech Gwanna Tach Omen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MySnarkySelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MySnarkySelf/gifts).



> Based on mysnarkyself's [mermaid au](http://mysnarkyself.tumblr.com/post/53938798591/teen-wolf-au-sterek-au-stiles-was-hiding-a) gifset. 
> 
> There be Stilinski family feels, and then the pool scene. The title came from 'The House of Healing' by Poets of the Fall - I think it was written for LotR, and the quote (in Sindarin) means "as you came, so you shall leave from us".
> 
>  
> 
> **Happy Birthday Vici <3**

 

Stiles was five when he first realised that not everybody grew a tail when they entered water.

He’d been bathed by his dad, bubbles and toy shops and sharks and all manner of other sea life surrounding him. His tail, blues and greens and silvers sparkling beneath the murky water, was being used as a catapult to splash water. A wave went over the edge of the bath, into his father’s lap, who jerked back startled.

Stiles giggled behind his hand and John shook his head in fond exasperation as he stood up and padded, socks squelching, across to the towel rack.

Stiles frowned at the two limbs and tilted his head. “Daddy, where’s your fins?”

“Hmm?” his father questioned, patting down the front of his trousers.

“Where’s your tail?” he asked again and the man stilled. He was silent for a long while and Stiles wondered whether he would actually get an answer.

“I...don’t have one,” he finally said slowly, carefully hanging up the towel.

“Why not?”

“Well, not very many people do son,” John replied, letting out a small groan as he returned to his crouched position besides the tub.

“Mummy does,” Stiles said almost defensively.

“You and Mummy...well, you’re both very special,” John smiled fondly.

That night, when his mother tucked him into bed, Stiles repeated the question from the cocoon of blankets that surrounded him. Claudia stopped, her hands resting on the edge of the sheets - and she sighed, smiling softly, and perched on the corner of his bed.

And then she told him a story. About a race of creatures that lived under the sea, that could be beautiful and wonderful as well as monstrous and dangerous; that had once before, centuries past, sought friendship with those who lived on the land, and who had been met with such horror and hostility that they rejected and hated their cousins above.

Except one. A teenage girl who sought to rebel and explore and feel the thrill of adrenaline buzzing through her veins in a way that can only be reached through defying your parents - and she paid the price for it. She got too close. Way too close. She was caught in a net, a trap, and she had struggled and panicked and thought for sure that this was going to be her end.

But she was wrong. She was saved. A passing fisherman’s boat had seen her and dragged her from the depths before forcing air into her lungs. That’s how she met him - a boy, her own age, working the summer at the docks.

“I didn’t know that mermaids existed,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Is that what you call us?” she mused in return.

Everyday after, they met - he would push his boat out and she would swim, miles from home. They would talk about anything, about everything, about nothing and yet there was always meaning. She had fallen in love with the human, against all odds and common sense. They were of two worlds after all.

Her mother was angered, and cursed and raged and threatened a grounding that only a parent could give, but her father, the sweet old man, understood how love couldn’t be helped or controlled, and did it wish to see his only daughter stuck and hurting. It was he that used old family secrets, rumours that he didn’t even know where true, to give his daughter the world - a weed, on the seabed, that has the ability to make a person walk on land - but that does not mean that heritage can be rejected.

“If I could find a way for us to be together, would you want that?” she wondered one day.

“If I knew we could be together, whether it’s on the land or under the sea, your world or mine, I’d marry you in a heartbeat,” he vowed, toying with a lock of hair that fell in front of her face.

“You could take me to your home with you. I want to see how you live,” she sighed wistfully.

He looked bashful. “Beacon Hills isn’t anything special.”

“It will be to me,” she promised.

The human kept true to his words. When she returned to him on the night before he was set to leave, unsteady on her new legs, he had bundled her bare skin in his clothing and took her to the nearest chapel. The wedding wasn’t big and extravagant, and she was a little lost with all the rituals she knew next to nothing about, but none of that mattered when he slid the ring on her finger and bound them together for the rest of their lives.

They moved to his hometown - he started at the police academy and she greedily took in all knowledge she got her hands on. They brought a house, cheap and a little broken, but theirs. And they had a son, a beautiful baby boy, land on his skin and the ocean in his heart.

“And do you know who that little boy is?” Claudia questioned.

Stiles shook his head, struggling to keep himself awake so close to the end of the tail.

She brushed a hand through his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “He is you Ecthelion.”

 

*

 

“Mummy, Gubby says that he liked peanut butter and jelly too!” Stiles called excitedly from where he was playing in the ocean. His tail waved over his head, before dropping back onto the sand with a resound smack.

“I thought you said that mermaids couldn’t speak to fish,” John questioned his wife, glancing to where she was spread on one of the deck chairs, soaking in the sun.

Claudia laughed. “That’s because we can’t.”

John blinked. And then laughed. “Our son,” he sighed fondly.

She reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing tightly and her fingers ran over the cold metal of his wedding ring. “Our son,” she repeated.

John smiled and raised the hand to press a kiss to the back.

“Daddy!”

They turned and saw Stiles trying to push his way up the length of the beach. Still wet, his tail had yet to recede and he looked a little like a beached baby seal - just perhaps a little more frustrated.

“I’ve got him,” John rolled his eyes in amusement.

Claudia sat back and sighed happily, and watched her love chase their child down and lift him off the ground. He spun him around and Stiles laughed, clinging to his father’s shoulders. Nothing got better than this. Yes, she missed the ocean and her parents and her cousins and the freedom of swimming through the waves, next to dolphins and sharks, and exploring depths that had yet to be discovered. But when she looked at her family - the love of her life and the gift they created - how could she want anything else? She never expected her life would be like that, but she couldn’t imagine she’d ever feel as happy, as contented, as complete as she does now.

Her chest tightened and her throat tingled and she spluttered a little, confused and perhaps a little scared. What was that? She rested a hand to her chest and breathed a little slower to try and stop the uncomfortable itch, which refused to go away.

“Hey, you okay?” John questioned.

She looked up and forced the worries away, smiling brightly. “Of course. I have my boys. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She wasn’t alright, Stiles found out soon enough.

“Mummy, she’s...” John tried to explain, swallowing and blinking to keep the tears from his red eyes. He hated having to do this, but Stiles was asking questions and Claudia was his mother, it was wrong to keep it a secret, “she’s not very well son.”

“But the doctor will give her medicine to make it better,” Stiles stated.

He smiled watery. “I don’t think a doctor can fix this Stiles. Not this time.”

Later on, Stiles would find out that it was pneumonia. Curable in humans, but when you come from a completely different environment, a different world, the immunity just isn’t there. The doctors could have pumped her full of drugs as much as they wanted, but it was unlikely to do anything but keep her numb, which, Stiles supposed, was better than her suffering the entire time she was stuck in that bed, too weak, too tired.

“I did this to you,” Stiles overheard John croak out from his place at the door to his mother’s room. His dad was sat on the edge of the chair beside her bed, his hands clutching at one of hers and his head bowed forward. “If you hadn’t...if you had stayed in the ocean...”

Claudia’s hands, shaking, reached out to rest on the crown of her husbands. “If I had stayed, I would never have had you, and Ecthelion and there is no way I would want to chance that. A little time is better than no time at all.”

Claudia Stilinski died on March 14th, at 10:46pm.

 

*

 

She was given a water burial. It’s what she wanted, according to John. There was an official one, in a church, at the cemetery where John’s parents had been buried years before, where there was a headstone and a place to visit, but unofficially, she was placed upon a wooden raft, on the beach that Claudia and John had first met on, and pushed out to sea.

Stiles clutched at his dad’s hand tightly, unable and unwilling to let go. His eyes were wet but he refused to cry - he’d already done that until there couldn’t be anymore tears left to fall. He didn’t speak either, although what would he say if he could?  The thought of even saying goodbye just...hurt.

The raft jolted to a stop and John stood up a little straighter, his grip flexing around his son’s hand for a moment, before a figure bobbed out of the water. It was a greying man, bare chested, a little green at the edges with a number of what looked like barnacles framing one side of his face. His expression was sorrowful, gazing down at the unmoving body, before his eyes lifted to stare out onto the shore.

“Say hello to your grandfather Stiles,” John muttered.

Stiles said nothing.

 

*

 

Stiles didn’t go to the beach again after that. He didn’t go swimming. He didn’t even like sitting in the bath for longer than he had to. In fact, he avoided all the things he had once loved to do.

Before, they were overwhelmed with love and warmth and family and excitement.

Now, they were tainted by the memory of someone he had lost and would never be able to replace.

It didn’t matter too much. With his dad’s increased work schedule, there was no chance to make the monthly visit to the beach and in all honesty, Stiles believed his father didn’t want to go as much as Stiles did. And with his new best friend, Scott McCall’s incredibly bad asthma, swimming was completely out of the question and never came up in conversation. Then when he bathed, he scrubbed until his skin was red, without never looking down, before lifting himself from the bath (by the age of 10, he had long since graduated from the need to be carried) and closed his eyes until the water dried up and his legs returned.

He just...he wasn’t comfortable until that part of him - the part that had once made him special, the part that was his mother - wasn’t there for him to see.

It wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t perfect and on many occasions, Stiles mocked himself for how pathetic it seemed, but it was better than the way his stomach would clench and just hurt, and his throat would close up and his eyes would burn and it just wasn’t worth it.

Stiles wondered whether it ever would be.

 

*

 

It was seven years before he would enter another pool again, and this time it was to save his life.

In the past few months, Stiles’ view of the world had changed. Before, there were just humans and merpeople in the world. Now, there’s werewolves, and still, if he hadn’t seen and fought and nearly been killed by the very real evidence, Stiles probably wouldn’t have believed it. Three weeks ago, he had still been recovering from the damage that Peter Hale had done - from biting Scott, to killing Kate - and god, don’t even get him started on Kate and the rest of the Argents. He told his dad it was just stress from school work because how was he going to explain why he put himself in such a dangerous situation? His dad had enough on his plate, enough things to worry about without Stiles adding to the pile.

But now, he almost wished he had spoken - because then explaining the kanima, who had paralysed him and killed the mechanic, Todd, probably wouldn’t be so difficult. Not to mention, Scott’s new wolfy abilities and then his strange hate-hate relationship with Derek Hale, who had been accused of murder on two separate occasions.

Or maybe that’s because, standing there at the poolside, with Derek paralysed at his feet, he couldn’t help but hope that John would come in, guns blazing and save them all because the only way that Stiles could think of doing that himself, was to do something that terrified him and would almost definitely reveal his secret.

But was it worth his life?

Was it worth Derek’s?

He had a split second decision. He remembered hearing Derek cursing and threatening him that he better not do what Derek thought he was going to do, but that was all background noise beneath the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart in abstract terror. Derek was a dead weight when he threw it into the water, the splash seeming to echo, and he allowed himself a few moments to kick off his shoes and pants before glancing at the kanima and jumping in to drag Derek from the bottom of the pool.

The change was instantaneous, his legs sticking and stitching together as they altered the skin, texture and colouring. All at one, Stiles almost felt as if he couldn’t breath, just for a moment, before he broke the surface and sucked in the air desperately, body trembling.

Derek’s head was tipped back onto his shoulder, the drug in his system keeping him from being able to support himself, but that didn’t stop him glaring.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“It got you away from it didn’t it?” Stiles retorted. He glanced up and looked around the pool, the room seeming ominously empty and it made his shoulders tense, “Where is it?”

“I...I don’t know,” Derek responded honestly, “We need to call Scott.”

“My phone is in my pants pocket, on the side,” Stiles told him, suddenly aware of how far away his phone was and how Derek was heavier than he seemed, which was a lot.

“Why is it - did you take your trousers off?” Derek demanded.

Stiles didn’t answer, but then again, he didn’t really need to. The reason, the evidence was keeping them afloat right now, and Stiles could feel the ends of his fins brushing on the back of Derek’s legs and there’s no way that the werewolf was completely unaware of it. Derek was a lot of things, but Stiles didn’t think that unobservant was one of those things.

“Wh-what’s that?” Derek questioned, his voice betraying his feelings of his confusion (and anger, but when his Derek not?) and Stiles closed his eyes, as if that could stop time and he wouldn’t have to answer the question. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

“Stiles!” Derek snapped him from his thoughts.

“It’s my tail,” Stiles blurted and then winced because wow, did he even try there?

Derek was silent. “What?”

Stiles had never been more thankful for the kanima’s presence than he was at that moment, when something clattered to the floor and their eyes darted towards it.

“I need to get to my phone,” Stiles stated.

“Don’t drop me,” Derek ordered quickly.

“You can’t expect me to carry you,” the teen snorted.

“Next time, you get paralysed and I’ll hold you up in 8ft of water, and we’ll see whether you want to be carried or not,” Derek sassed back, and Stiles scowled.

He muttered a bitter “fine” and pushed himself as far along as he could. The muscles ached from lack of use, but he guessed it was like riding a bike. You never really forget. Derek remained stubbornly silent throughout the whole process, but Stiles could see the tightness to his jaw, the way he refused to look in Stiles direction and Stiles could only guess how awkward trying to explain himself was going to get. But he didn’t have time to worry about that now. His phone was so close, yet too far away when you have to keep someone else’s body weight afloat.

His fingers reached desperately for his phone, tips brushing at the edges. It twisted towards him slightly but not enough to grab. Behind him, he could hear the clicking of claws against the tiled flooring that lined the pool. Closer and closer, louder and louder, and Stiles could feel the panicked way his heart was beating out of his chest. Derek could as well, there was no doubt about that - not that he did anything to help. Oh no, he just growled out a frustrated “hurry up!”

“I’m trying,” Stiles snapped back.

Gritting his teeth, he arched his back and then adjusted his grip on Derek, hefting him up so the man could rest heavily against his chest. He threw them both towards the edge of the pool, wincing when his hips whacked painfully against the stone. He ignored the throbbing pain defiantly and his hand grabbed the bottom of the phone. The kanima swiped a hooked hand at him viciously and Stiles jerked away just in time, bashing his elbow and water splashed upward towards his face.

The beast snarled angrily, teeth bared, but didn’t venture any further, as if it had just been met with an invisible wall that was specially designed to keep it out.

“It won’t touch the water,” Stiles muttered, “Derek, it won’t touch the water!”

“That’s fantastic Stiles, but that doesn’t help us get out of this pool does it?” Derek retorted, before biting out the order, “Call Scott.”

“Right, right,” Stiles fumbled with his phone. In any other situation, using the device with one hand had never been a problem, but now, with the stress of the kanima’s presence and the added pressure of Derek and how much he really wanted out of this pool, not to mention keeping the phone above water, it was far more complicated than he remembered it to be. He was so lucky that he had Scott on his speed dial, or the chances of that phone being destroyed would have risen dramatically.

The phone rang, sharp and shrill, and if Stiles could have bounced his legs in impatience, he would have.

He started speaking as soon as the phone picked up, not even giving Scott the chance to speak. “Here’s the summarized version: Kanima. Derek paralysed. Me holding him up in the pool. High School. Get there now.”

“I can’t talk right now,” Scott hissed out.

“Scott, if you don’t get your little werewolf ass down here right now, I’m going to kick it across the preserve,” Stiles bit out.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be there. Ten minutes. Think you last that long?”

“Like I have a choice,” Stiles muttered in return, before ending the call and throwing it onto the poolside. It clattered and the kanima glanced towards it as if its presence personally offended him.

“Ten minutes,” he murmured, as if Derek hadn’t heard both sides of the conversation anyway.

“Since we’re going to be here for awhile,” Derek wondered nonchalantly, after a few moments of silence, “Want to tell me what you meant?”

“Meant about what?” Stiles played dumb.

“What you meant when you said it’s a tail.”

“Who’s tail?”

Derek let out a frustrated noise. “Your tail Stiles, what did you mean when you said you had a tail?”

“I guess it means that I have a tail,” Stiles licked his lips nervously, and his fins flicked along the back of Derek’s legs once more.

“Yes, I understood that part. But why do you have a tail? How do you have a tail?”

“Genetics?” Stiles offered weakly.

“Stiles...” he gritted out.

“Look, can you just drop it okay? It doesn’t matter,” Stiles snapped.

“Doesn’t matter? We’ve been fighting werewolves and kanimas for months now, and all this time you pretended that you were human and now you grow a fucking tail!”

“I am human,” Stiles defended.

“How? Last time I checked, humans doesn’t have tails Stiles.”

Stiles stayed stubbornly silent, and Derek, thankfully, didn’t push anymore although Stiles could tell he wanted to. Oh he really wanted to. On the few times he had learnt about Derek, one was that he really hated not knowing. There must be something to the secrecy do it, and okay, given his history, Stiles could understand the need. For him, secrets got people hurt, got them killed, so if it needed to be said, it should be. But Stiles wasn’t Kate, he wasn’t Peter.

But how did Derek know that? He’s been back in town for what, three months? Four? And he found out so much about his uncle, the only family member he’d had left and the one person he thought he could trust. Six years ago, he found out that his girlfriend was a hunter and had trapped and burnt his family alive just because of what they were (not that Derek ever admitted to that one, and it’s not as if Stiles was going to ask to confirm his theory, he didn’t need to). So why would he just magically trust Stiles, the kid he’d known for an insignificant amount of time and could barely trust as it is?

Because you protected him before and you’re doing it again, a voice reminded him.

When Scott finally burst his way through the doors to the swimming pool, Stiles was convinced that things could not be tenser between him and Derek. It was a little ridiculous, but it was easy not to talk when his chest was hurting, his arm was going numb and you were focusing all your attention on keeping the paralysed werewolf from drowning. Scott entrance was loud and sudden, startling them all. Stiles squeaked and he hurried to regain his grip on Derek when the man began to slip.

The kanima turned it’s snake like eyes towards Scott and hissed angrily. Scott shifted, fangs growing, sideburns descending, eyes glowing gold, and crouched in a defense position. The kanima went for an offence, which anyone could have guessed, and lashed out. Scott ducked out of the way of the claws and slashed his own, catching a little of his face with the tip of his hand. The kanima snarled and jumped away, using walls as transportation out of there. Scott turned to follow but then stopped, hesitated and glanced towards the pool.

“Are you guys alright?” He took a step forward and Stiles panicked.

Scott couldn’t see. No, Scott could definitely not see. He didn’t want to have that talk with his best friend, the one about lying so much and keeping this a secret and not trusting him, because that meant not only hurting Scott, but it would mean bringing up his mom again and god, he wasn’t ready - and he already knew that the time to tell the truth was at hand, because Derek was not going to let this go.

Stiles twisted Derek so his body was a shield, ignoring the man’s low noise of irritation.

“We’re fine. Peachy even. A little wet but ya know, what do you expect?” Stiles assured hurriedly, “But yeah, we’re fine. Just go, before it gets away. I can get us out.”

“Are you sure you won’t-”

“Nope, I’ve got it. Really, go chase it down incase someone else gets hurt.”

The realisation seemed to appear in Scott’s eyes and he turned automatically taking off, but not without shouting a quick “I’ll call you later” over his shoulder. As soon as Scott was out of sight, Stiles sighed in relief and slacked, tension leaving his shoulders.

“I guess Scott doesn’t know then,” Derek stated, “And you don’t want him to find out.”

“What gave that away?” Stiles replied sarcastically.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“Can we save this discussion for later, please?” Stiles averted the subject, “Let’s just focus on getting out of this pool first.”

Derek didn’t say anything, but Stiles took the silence as a yes anyways. His muscles ached a little as he pushed them both towards the edge of the pool. The feeling was slowly coming back to Derek’s body and he had enough of it to help push himself up out of the water and to drag himself away from the edge. Stiles lifted himself out as quickly as possible, shivering when the water cooled against his scales. The first glint of silver sparkled and he shut his eyes automatically and tried not to think about it.

He jolted when a towel was thrown at him. His eyes blinked open and squinted around him. Derek had pulled himself to the towel bin, his own rough excuse for a towel over his head and rubbing at his hair.

“Dry up, we don’t want anyone catching you like this,” Derek ordered, voice muffled, and Stiles distractedly followed the order. He tried not to look down too much, tried not to touch the scales he had once loved, and breathed a little easier when the tail fell away to normal, human feet. He wriggled his toes for good measure and smiled a little at he feeling.

“You know, I didn’t know that mermaids existed,” Derek commented.

“That’s not exactly politically correct,” Stiles pointed out. Not that it mattered. Derek ignored him anyway.

“How long have you been...like that?” he questioned.

Stiles shrugged a little. “I don’t know. Forever I guess. I was born like this.”

“As a mer-whatever.”

“Half mer-whatever,” Stiles mimicked dryly.

“Not from your dad’s genes I take it,” Derek assumed, and tilted his head over the curve of the towel to finally look at Stiles properly.

“How do you know that?” Stiles challenged.

Derek tapped the side of his nose. “He smells human.”

“And I don’t?”

“Not really. You smell...” he laughed a little, “You smell like the ocean. Huh. I guess that makes sense now.”

“My mom used to smell like that. Like salt water and sand,” Stiles reminisced quietly. A lump lodged in his throat and he swallowed heavily to try and clear it. His grip flexed around the edges of the towel and the urge to leave as fast as possible rose within him. Where had he put his pants again?

Derek stood up suddenly, and stumbled a little before righting himself. He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and then carefully approached Stiles. He kicked a pile of clothes in his direction. “Get dressed,” he instructed, “We should get out of her before the police get called here to find out the cause of the disturbance.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want anyone at the station to see with a criminal,” Stiles mused, gratefully shoving on his batman boxers.

“Ex-criminal. I was exonerated, remember?” Derek reminded and Stiles rolled his eyes. Yes, of course he remembered, how many times had Derek said this exactly?

Stiles stalled a little tugging on his sweatpants and glanced uncertainly towards Derek, almost afraid to ask. Derek noticed the stare and turned towards him. His eyebrow quirked questioningly when Stiles didn’t speak straight away.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Stiles blurted, “About...the fins?”

“Why don’t you want anyone to know?”

“Because I don’t, okay?” he snapped, “And I have that right. This is about me, my genes and my family and if I don’t feel like now is the appropriate time to share it with anyone, I have the option to do that and you should respect that. I just...” the heat left him quickly and it was as if the cold had caught up to him. He wrapped his arms around his body and held on tight, “I don’t want anyone to know, not yet. I...I need to trust you with this. Please.”

Derek watched him blankly, emotionlessly, and Stiles thought for one terrifying moment that Derek didn’t care. That the secret was enough to lose all respect and Derek had every intention of letting it get revealed. It seemed a bit exaggerated but god, what if that’s what happened? Stiles wasn’t ready for this, he really wasn’t.

But then Derek sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he agreed reluctantly, “Whatever. I won’t tell anyone about the, ah, tail.”

“Not even Scott?”

“Especially not Scott.”

“...Promise?”

He let out an aggravated noise through gritted teeth, “Yes, Stiles, I promise.”

And Stiles, he kind of believed him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr [here](http://imthekeptainnow.tumblr.com/post/66456434452/sui-tollech-gwanna-tach-omen)


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